


Nothing By Halves

by therev



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Human!Spock, M/M, Two Spocks, split spock, spones - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 10:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7358389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therev/pseuds/therev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy wishes he could talk to Spock's human half. After a transporter malfunction, he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing By Halves

"If Jim's hurt, I should be there," McCoy said, his face flushed hot and red.

"Your argument is noted, Doctor," Spock said calmly, "and your offer is declined. I shall return with the captain as soon as I have located him."

Spock stepped onto the transporter pad and McCoy itched to do the same, insubordination be damned. He stood close enough that he knew the transport could not be started.

"And what if you can't make it back onto the ship through this storm? What if you're stuck down there and Jim's hurt? What if he dies without a doctor?"

"Mr. Grainger, please proceed," Spock said to the operator, ignoring McCoy.

"I can't, Mr. Spock, the doctor…."

"Security," Spock said flatly, "please remove Dr. McCoy from the transporter room."

Two figures in red, McCoy was too upset to even recognize who, took him by each arm.

"Dammit, Spock. Can't you understand why I need to go? You inhuman, unfeeling…"

Spock did not look at him even as he began to glitter and fade and then McCoy was outside in the hall and the door snicked closed.  
___

McCoy waited. They all did. He stood on the bridge, trying to stay out of the way as the crew bustled around him and minutes then hours passed with no word from Spock or Jim, down there together, no communication since Jim's last call for an emergency beam-up when his signal had disappeared, clouded by the storm. 

They watched the little blue planet below, obscured at times through the purple clouds of the ion storm. Where it showed clear it could have been mistaken for Earth by a layman, shrouded in white, dotted green, turning almost imperceptibly as the Enterprise orbited around it. Some of the equipment beeped now and then, failing momentarily as the storm played hell on the electronics, and yet that planet below turned serenely.

McCoy was beginning to feel foolish for overreacting in the transporter room. It was likely that Jim was fine, he usually was. But why wouldn't Spock let him go? Why wouldn't he let McCoy share the danger? If only he could make Spock understand. If he could just speak to Spock's humanity and not his logic.

On the planet, through the viewscreen, something white streaked through its atmosphere, just visible through the violet haze of the storm. Scotty called for increased magnification and the screen went almost blinding bright. "A meteor," someone said. "That one's going to leave a mark," someone else said.

McCoy watched the meteor arcing through the viewer as he thought. He was a grown man and a doctor and he knew a shooting star wasn't really any such thing. He knew the tail that followed it was caused by ionization and he knew the blue-green color of it was caused by a high level of magnesium, yet he closed his eyes anyway, and made a wish.

"Communication from the planet!" Uhura called out urgently, even before he'd opened his eyes, then static and Spock's voice, broken by crackling but audible, came through the speakers.

"Two to beam up," it said.  
___

McCoy double-timed it to the transporter room, sprinting through the halls even as he was being called via ship-wide intercom to report there. 

The transporter door whooshed open as he arrived, but instead of broken or bloodied bodies he found Jim, looking confused but unharmed, and that was a relief. Spock, too, stood on the transporter pad, whole and hale. The one thing out of place was that Jim had a phaser pointed at Spock.

"What the devil is going on?" McCoy asked.

Spock was the only one to look at him. Jim didn't take his eyes off of his first officer.

"That's a good question, Doctor," Spock said with a lighter tone than one would expect from someone with a phaser pointed at them.

"Yes," said someone behind McCoy, someone McCoy hadn't noticed when he rushed into the room, someone who was, when McCoy turned to look, also Spock. "An excellent question, Doctor."  
____

Since they could not, at first, try to put him back together via transporter, not with the storm still raging, the first thing they did was try to figure out what they were dealing with.

In med bay, one Spock lay on a table, one stood across the room. Jim paced impatiently.

McCoy shut off the bed and the Spock on the table sat up. "He's human," McCoy said, "down to the genetic level. Not a trace of Vulcan in him."

"Fascinating," both Spocks said.

"And this one," McCoy motioned to the Spock standing, "is 100% Vulcan, which doesn't make any sense, because at best, they should be half a man each, half the genetic material and cells, but here we have two, fully-formed and completely separate individuals."

"We've seen this before, Doctor," the human Spock said, "when the Captain was separated into two persons, one displaying his kindness and fairness, the other his ruthlessness, decisiveness and, excuse me, Captain, some form of mania."

"But these two are fine," Jim said, staring perhaps a little too long at the human Spock. McCoy thought he might have been trying to make sense of those rounded ears. "Or they seem to be."

"The circumstances are not the same," the Spock that was human said. "I wasn't separated by personality but by genetics, and I have long been a divided individual. Perhaps this has spared me--us--the adverse side effects. I am more concerned with what could have caused it." 

"My incident," Jim said, "was due to transporter malfunction caused by the magnetic ore of Alpha 177. This must have been due to the magnetic interference of the ion storm."

"One would assume, yet Mr. Scott reports no malfunction of the equipment or signs of a disrupted transport. We will have to test the equipment; try to replicate the anomaly."

McCoy nodded, considering all of this, and looked to the Vulcan, standing there like he was bored with the whole business. 

"You're pretty quiet, Mr. Spock," he said. "Don't you have any suggestions?"

"No, Doctor," Spock said simply, flatly, and then the room was quiet.

"Well why the hell not?" McCoy asked, voice rising. "You should be operating on pure logic at this point, having exorcised that pesky humanity, and you don't even have a theory?"

"Bones, that's enough," Jim said, but he was looking at Spock also, clearly waiting for an answer.

Spock did not even raise an eyebrow. "I have theories. I am calculating variables. I do not wish to suggest that which I cannot yet support."

There was a sound in the quiet, a noise McCoy had heard once or twice, when Spock was possessed by another being or a personality-altering alien spore. Spock, the human, was laughing.

"I can see why you find me so irritating, Doctor," he said, then stood and approached the Vulcan. Jim took a step toward them as well, ready to jump to Spock's defense, but the human only circled his Vulcan self, looking him over. The Spock that was Vulcan did not blink.

"I suppose we should decide which of us is still the Commander," the human said, "or else the bridge crew won't know whose instruction to follow."

McCoy frowned. "I'm not sure that either of you should be giving orders, but we're certainly going to have to figure out what to call you both." 

"You two are talking like this is a permanent situation," Jim said, irritated. "I want my first officer back and I want him in one piece!"

"We do not yet know how long before that is possible, Captain," the Vulcan said at last, turning to face Jim. "Once conditions are safe enough to attempt reunification via transport, we shall know more, however, storms in this system, of this type, are known to last for weeks. Until that time--"

"Until that time," the human said, interrupting, "I should like to step down as Commander and offer that position to, well, to myself."

"That's my decision, Mister," Jim spat, clearly unimpressed by the man who would laugh at his first officer. "But it happens that I agree with you. Do you agree, Mr. Spock? I mean, the Vulcan Mr. Spock?"

"If that is your order, Captain."

"Then maybe he should keep the name along with the rank," McCoy suggested.

The human turned to him and smiled kindly. It was almost unsettling. "Our mother used to tease us that if she'd had her way we would have been named Harold."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Lord, help us."

"Alternatively, I would be glad to be called Mr. Grayson." He looked to his other self and the Spock that was Vulcan nodded slightly with approval.

Jim sighed.  
____

They took the ship out into a wider orbit, to quieter, safer space and watched the storm from afar and waited.

The reaction on the bridge was surprisingly unsurprised. McCoy thought that it said a lot about their collective adventures that the most common comment whispered behind backs and view screens was that the human Spock might be just a bit more handsome than the Vulcan, if slightly shorter (he wasn't, McCoy knew, but he didn't stand quite as straight). It also said a lot about how quickly news traveled on a starship.

There were also many jokes, even rumors among the crew about what a human Spock might get up to that that a Vulcan one never had, and one particularly stubborn one about how the Vulcan half would certainly leave Starfleet and return to his home planet as soon as he was able.

One thing that was never said on the bridge, but which McCoy considered often, was the inexplicable feeling that he was somehow to blame.  
___

"Any new theories, Mr. Spock?" he asked as Spock lay on a biobed, seeming less annoyed by the exam than his whole self had ever been. While Spock's two selves seemed stable enough, Spock diligent as ever on the bridge, and Grayson proving helpful in the Science labs, McCoy still insisted on running his tests at regular intervals.

"None at this time, Doctor."

"That's surprising. I would think your untainted Vulcan mind would be swimming with logical deductions."

Spock did not look irritated. "Mr. Scott and I attempted to reproduce the anomaly by beaming myself and Mr. Grayson together between the ship and a shuttlecraft. As you can see, we were not successful. At this time, one must assume some condition on the planet is partially to blame."

"Or the storm itself?"

"Precisely. However, the Captain will not permit such testing."

McCoy smiled. "No, I guess he wouldn't want to risk coming up with four Spocks by the end of it."

Spock raised a brow but did not comment. McCoy had been expecting a clever remark about the increased efficiency of the ship under such circumstances, but none came. He cleared his throat. 

"Your scans still look good. No physical deterioration like when Jim was split in two. How about mentally? Any slowing of cognition? Reaction time? Strange, megalomaniacal thoughts?" He paused. "More than usual amount of home-sickness?"

"No, Doctor," Spock said gravely.

"Yes, well," McCoy said, somewhat disappointed, and tilted the table up so that Spock could stand and leave. "Until next time, Mr. Spock."

When it was the human's turn, Grayson craned his neck to watch the readout over the bed.

"Something fascinating, Mr. Grayson?"

"Of course, Doctor. Imagine your entire physiology changing overnight. Organs in different places, experiencing unfamiliar autonomic responses for the first time. I had my first involuntary erection this morning. Most unusual."

McCoy smiled down, trying not to laugh. "Quite a chance for scientific observation," he said, and checked the vitals on the screen. "Well I can tell you that you're perfectly normal for a human. Better, in fact. I wish Jim's scans looked this good."

Grayson stood as the table tilted. His hair was not as perfect as it should have been and his face was flushed from lying down. He frowned, but his brow was softer than a Vulcan's, so that it read more as sadness than disapproval.

"The captain is quite distressed by our situation."

"Are you sensing his moods or guessing?"

"I have retained none of my telepathy, apart from the link shared with my other self. I understand the captain the same way that you do: observation, experience, and empathy of the human kind. I don't believe that he trusts me."

McCoy frowned. "He's your friend as well as your captain. He may need some adjustment period, but Jim's handled tougher situations. He can handle two first officers, even if one of them is human."

Grayson's face, so much like Spock's, took on a look of irritation that McCoy knew too well. One he had expected from the Vulcan. 

"However human I may be in form, Doctor, I am still a Vulcan, in the same way that Mr. Chekov, were he to metamorphose into a table, an apple, or an Andorian whistle fly, would still necessarily be a Russian one."

McCoy nodded, feeling sorry for the remark. "I apologize, Mr. Grayson. I suppose that's not the first time I've spoken or acted out of ignorance. In fact, I was just thinking that I regret the last thing I said to you before you beamed down and… Well I'm not proud of myself for some of the things I've called you in the past."

Grayson raised an eyebrow, not in the same way that Spock did, and with it the corners of his mouth lifted into a polite smile. "I am not dead, Doctor. Those were not the last words you will have ever spoken to me."

McCoy nodded, considering. "Do you and Spock have all the same memories?"

"Of course. But we view them differently, from different perspectives."

"So I guess I'd have to apologize twice, wouldn't I?"

"Apology is not necessary for either of us, but I do understand that it might be necessary for you."

"Yes," McCoy said and smiled, "he would say the same thing, but he wouldn't really understand, would he?"

"He understands more than he admits."

"I thought Vulcans didn't lie," McCoy asked, smiling.

Grayson smiled too, handsome without Spock's usual smugness. "No, but we are skilled in misdirection."  
____

Days passed. The storm subsided so that some of Spock and Scotty's theories could at last be tested, and Spock and Grayson were transported down to the surface and back. Several times it was attempted, at different frequencies, slight variations in the transporter's settings, but each time the two of them came back as they had gone down, separate Vulcan and human.

McCoy had stood there watching them, an observer in the transporter room, as they stood together at the controls, faces aglow from the panels, identical dark heads bent together in quiet, sometimes silent communication. Scotty paid them no mind, crouching at the pad, sparking something beneath the floor. Jim had left after the second failed attempt.

Spock spoke softly and Grayson's reply was loud enough that McCoy could just make out the word "illogical" as Spock gestured, insistent, until at last Grayson shook his head and smiled in defeat and patted Spock warmly on the shoulder. McCoy began to wonder if this is what had gone on in that head of Spock's his whole life, the two sides of him, often at odds, eventually coming to some grudging agreement.

Grayson looked up and caught him watching, and McCoy looked away quickly.  
___

With both Spock and Mr. Grayson performing separate duties and maintaining their health, and without any clear link between their situation and the planet below, it seemed logical to all involved to simply get on with the mission. The Enterprise warped out of orbit at last.

"I'm glad to be on our way again," Jim said as he stood with McCoy on the observation deck, his face reflected in the cold clearsteel. "Even with our… complications. I don't think the answer was back there any more than it is in front of us."

"Never did like standing still, did you?" McCoy asked, and sipped his brandy. "Anyway I agree with you, for whatever that's worth. So does Mr. Grayson. Spock, too, as far as I know."

"Yes, so I hear," Jim said and smirked. "You know, Grayson has beaten me in our last three chess matches." 

McCoy raised his glass. "Well I'm glad being human has some advantages. And I'm glad you gave him a chance, Jim."

Jim shook his head, still watching the distant stars through the warp field that enveloped them. "I never would have guessed it was the Vulcan part of him I was outmaneuvering."

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe all that logic clouded his intuition."

"That's a worrisome thought, isn't it, Bones?"

"Only for your chess game, I hope. How's he been on the bridge? Spock, I mean."

Jim rubbed his chin, then caught sight of himself in the clearsteel and quickly put his hands behind his back.

"Admirable, as always. Though a bit less..." Jim searched for the word.

"Human?" McCoy suggested.

"Challenging," Jim said.

"In the south we call that sass."

Jim smiled. "Not quite that, and I do realize he'll need time. We all do. To adjust." He stopped and went quiet as the stars sailed silently by.

McCoy watched him. After a while he nudged Jim's shoulder with his own. 

"I've just thought of something," he said. "Maybe it wasn't the Vulcan you were outmaneuvering, maybe it was the Vulcan who was letting you win."

Jim tilted his head and raised a brow. "That is a very interesting possibility."  
____

Magnus IV was a charted but unsurveyed Class K planet. Scans promised a variety of flora, fauna, and some geological anomalies. Spock led a scientific survey party which included McCoy, Sulu, several security personnel, and Lt. Grayson, Science Officer. The largest life forms on the planet were reported to be no bigger than a dog, and although the size was correct, the comparison was not. 

"How the devil are we going to classify these?" McCoy said to Sulu, his voice staticky over the comm link in their helmets. He stepped carefully around one of the friendly creatures, its limbs like long, spindly vines, it's bulbous body covered in what McCoy would best describe as feathers.

"Despite these vine-like protrusions, it's not plant." Sulu said, bending down to it.

"It's definitely animal…" McCoy said, then "sort of," and regretted such an unscientific observation immediately, knowing that Spock could hear every word through the comm link, even though, since his transformation, Spock had foregone all opportunities to rile the Doctor. 

Grayson, however, laughed at him. He and Spock were some distance off in the same clearing, but his voice came clearly through the comm.

"Thank you for that observation, Doctor. I shall note 'sort of animal' in the survey."

"I'd like to hear your theories, Mr. Grayson."

"Non-humanoid," Grayson said.

"Obviously," McCoy countered.

"Unique evolution. If seeded, as many of these planets have been, this may be the product of some peculiar cross breeding. It presents avian, canine, and botanical characteristics."

"Are you suggesting it's a flying plant-dog, Mr. Grayson?"

"I don't believe I suggested that it could fly. Many bird species--"

"Gentlemen," Spock said in a cooler version of Grayson's voice, "please reserve the comm link for critical observations only."

They took holos of the creature, collected samples of its fur or feathers or leaves, and sampled the sticky substance it dribbled from what seemed to be its mouth. They tried to leave it where they found it, but it followed them, rustling quietly along behind them, a sound like brittle leaves, until another joined it, and the two began whispering to each other in soft, plaintive mewling sounds, and scaring away smaller creatures before they could be scanned.

They skimmed along the planet's surface, beaming from one location to another, spending no more than an hour at each. The forested area where they had first found the creatures seemed to be typical of the equatorial region, but the poles were more extreme even than Earth, iced-over with sulphur-colored glaciers that shuddered and cracked from some geological instability, great chasms that vented warmer white gases that must have come from deep inside the planet, the sky overhead a rose-pink, bleeding out to purple. Spock seemed most interested in these places.

"Beam ahead to the next location," he said when the others agreed there wasn't much to be found. "I should like to scan some of the ice structures. I will not be long."

McCoy frowned, even though it wasn't very effective inside his helmet. "I know what that means. 'Not long' to a curious Vulcan is just as likely to take three days as three hours."

"I'll stay with him," Grayson said, and Spock conceded with a nod.

"That's not really much better," McCoy said under his breath, though everyone heard him clearly through the comm. He waved over at Sulu and the others. "I'll stay too."

Sulu nodded, initialized communications with the ship, and moments later McCoy and Spock and Grayson were alone in the amber-colored ice land.

"That wasn't necessary, Doctor," Grayson said.

The ground shook a little. There was a loud clap in the distance as something very old cracked.

"Don't tell me that now, Mr. Grayson."

Spock paid them no mind. He had stepped away from them, slipping a little on the ice but undeterred by it. He was adjusting the settings on his tricorder.

"What's he up to?" McCoy asked and Grayson shrugged, something McCoy still hadn't gotten used to seeing.

"You may ask me yourself, Doctor," Spock suggested without looking up, but didn't supply an answer.

McCoy kept his feet planted firmly as the ground trembled again. "Alright, Mr. Spock, what do you find so fascinating?"

"One moment and I believe I shall be able to show rather than tell."

A small beam of red of light emitted from the tricorder, then split into two and again, until it threw down a grid along a wide path of the ice, five, ten, then twenty meters long and ten meters wide. After a few moments Spock made an adjustment and a section of the ice floated upward, a hologram of the scan he'd just taken. 

"There were inconsistencies in the density of the ice, not unusual for natural formation, but the relative masses intrigued me."

As Spock spoke he tilted the cuboid up on its side by a few degrees until the simulated crystalline structure caught the light from the distant primary and it glowed a rosy amber. Suspended within it were several dark masses which would have been baffling just a few hours before, but McCoy recognized them.

"The dog-birds," he said, unable to keep a little of the wonder out of his voice.

"You've neglected to include their botanical features in the nomenclature," Grayson said, but McCoy could tell he was impressed as well.

"I don't believe either of you are correct," Spock said, "however, I can understand your error."

"They're enormous," McCoy said. "That one's at least fifteen meters."

"Thirteen-point-nine-two," Spock said after consulting the tricorder.

"Can you date them, Mr. Spock?" Grayson asked.

"The chemical makeup of the ice makes it difficult, however, I would estimate between two-thousand and three-thousand standard years. From my initial scans, I believe these ice plains are filled them."

"There must have been some catastrophic event," McCoy suggested. "Something sudden enough to trap them here. This planet's ice age."

"Or perhaps this was once a burial place," Grayson said.

"Sound theories," Spock said, in the tone of one who doesn't quite agree with their own statement, "however, one might suggest a simpler solution, that these seas might have once been their home."

McCoy nodded, stepping closer to the hologram. "Yes, here," he said, pointing even as he slipped a little on the ice and Grayson caught him by the arm to steady him, "this dorsal feature, possibly piscine in nature."

"And all that's left of these mammoths," Grayson added, "are those small creatures in the forests."

"At any rate," Spock said, "I suggest that the presence of these great bodies are much of the cause of the current instability of this region. As the vented gasses rise through the ice--"

The ground shook harder, interrupting him, and the hologram shuttered then winked out.

"Gentlemen," Grayson said, "I think that we should--"

But whatever he thought was never voiced, as the ice between his feet cracked loudly and opened up beneath him. McCoy was closest and without thought he dropped to his knees, then his belly, reaching for Grayson's hand. He was quite surprised when he actually caught it. 

"Spock!" McCoy cried from where he lay flat against the ice, both hands clasping one of Grayson's. Grayson clutched at the ice face with the other, but the surface was too slippery to grip. In fact, McCoy was beginning to slip as well.

"There is no need to shout, Doctor, I can hear you quite well," Spock said cooly, and was saying something else, but McCoy couldn't hear it.

"Hold on," McCoy said to Grayson. 

"I am endeavoring to do so, Doctor," Grayson said in an only slightly more worried tone than Spock's.

"Spock, I need your help, I can't hold him!"

"A moment please, Doctor."

"Damn you! Damn you both!"

Everything slowed. At the edge of the chasm Grayson dangled from McCoy's grip, the glossy helmet reflecting the pink sky, the yellow glaciers, and Spock standing over them. McCoy could only really see Grayson's eyes. It wasn't exactly panic he saw. Even as a human, Spock didn't panic. But there was something he recognized, and then he felt Grayson's hand slip.

"Don't you do it, dammit, don't you let go! Spock!" McCoy shouted, incredibly loud in the suit. Especially loud in the transporter room, where they suddenly found themselves.

"Do you still require assistance, Dr. McCoy?" Spock asked from somewhere over him, where McCoy lay sprawled across the transporter pad.

McCoy blinked, panting. Grayson lay sprawled in the opposite direction on the pad, his eyes still a little wild. McCoy still clutched at Grayson's glove, but it was no longer on his hand. Another fraction of a second on the the planet, and they would have lost Spock's human half for good.  
___

They received new orders that same shift. A small Earth colony planet needed assistance and the Enterprise was closest.

"I need you to talk to him," Jim said, standing in McCoy's quarters as they hurried to their next mission at a steady warp six.

"Who? Grayson?"

"No. Spock," Jim corrected, and sat on McCoy's desk. He looked defeated. "I can't say he's making mistakes, they're exactly correct, textbook decisions, like the one with you and Grayson on the planet, and yet somehow… they don't feel like the right ones."

McCoy sat beside him. He had been thinking the same, but hadn't wanted to voice it. He still didn't. He wouldn't lay his own burdens on their captain.

"I'm not surprised. It's--forgive me for saying so--it's logical that he wouldn't be the same man he was before. Grayson can't perform advanced calculations in his head any more than Spock can feel his way through a situation. Not yet, anyway. Spock's adaptive enough that he's likely to learn that eventually, even without his human half to hold his hand, so to speak."

Jim shook his head, rubbed at his face. "That doesn't really solve our problem."

"What can I do, Jim? I'm probably the last person he'd talk to."

"Well he won't talk to me and that's damned strange, isn't it? I count him among my greatest friends, and now it feels as if we are strangers."

McCoy considered the frown in Jim's brow. He knew that Jim valued Spock's friendship, but perhaps he had never realized just how much.

"Maybe on my next exam I could run some extra cognitive and judgement tests," McCoy suggested, "compare them to his old ones."

"Haven't you already?"

"To a degree. I compared them with Starfleet averages, which he easily surpassed. Both of them do."

"Do the test, Bones. As many as you have to. I want to know what I'm dealing with. I want to know…." The statement hung there. McCoy didn't want to finish it for him.

"He is still Spock, Jim. They both are," he said, and told himself to believe it.

Jim was quiet for a moment, then nodded and stood but paused at the door.

"Let me know what you find."  
____

McCoy had not exactly been avoiding Spock since the transporter incident (the first or the second). How could he when he saw the man before every Alpha shift for his check-up? It was, however, still true that he had rarely seen him outside of the daily exams, and certainly seen him far less than Mr. Grayson, who seemed to like to be underfoot in Sick Bay, enough that McCoy had finally put him to work. It was somewhat gratifying that McCoy finally outranked him.

"There are more of these simulations than usual," Spock said to McCoy after the fourth of nearly a dozen tests, his tone softer in the emptiness of the holodeck than it might have been on the bridge. "You must be aware that I designed some of them."

"I am," McCoy said, and pressed another sensor against Spock's bare chest as they stood in that peculiar twilight between programs, the air so still and quiet. 

"Would it not be better to devise a test in which the answers, for lack of a better term, are not already known to the subject?"

"Oh, I don't know," McCoy said, and smiled wryly. "It's interesting watching a man try to defeat himself when his self is not dangling over a lava pit."

Spock did not reply immediately and McCoy regretted the dig just a little.

"Doctor McCoy," Spock said at last and straightened even more, seeming suddenly to tower over McCoy in a way that had nothing to do with height, "Do you wish to discuss the events which occurred on Magnus IV?"

"What's there to discuss? You saved our lives."

"And yet you were and are troubled by it."

"Stop digging around in my head."

"On the contrary, your emotions are, as ever, easily perceived. I believe the phrase is 'wearing one's heart on one's sleeve'."

McCoy frowned and stuck the next sensor over Spock's heart, down on his side with more force than necessary. "Whether or not I'm troubled by it, whether or not I felt you should have done anything different, the fact remains that you made the right decision, since we are alive and not roasting at the core of an unstable planet."

Spock raised a brow. "I do not believe you would have reached the core."

McCoy sighed. "If you have something to say, Spock, you'd better just say it."

The room went quiet again for long enough that McCoy thought they were through talking, then Spock spoke so softly and suddenly that McCoy was surprised by it.

"Doubt, Doctor," Spock said. "It persists in you, and in the captain. The question: Are we… am I who I once was?"

"Are you?" McCoy asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Spock clasped his hands behind his back, a familiar sight even without his uniform top. "The longer we two are separated, the longer external forces may influence us differently, and the more each of us becomes someone we were not."

"But every person experiences that over time. That's life. Personal growth isn't unusual."

"Precisely, Doctor. However, most individuals grow as one whole, rather than two parts. A gap must necessarily form between who each of us once were and who each of us may become. The concern must be the width of that gap."

"And whose concern is that? Yours? Tell me, Spock, are you really unhappy to have that part of yourself excised?"

Spock's eyes did not narrow, he did not frown more than he already had been, but something about him felt suddenly closed off.

"Is that your theory, doctor? That I am pleased by the outcome of the transporter malfunction? That my actions on the planet were in the pursuit of fratricide? Indeed, in a sense, suicide?"

"Now dammit, that's not what I meant."

"No, doctor," Spock said calmly. "But perhaps I have wondered if it is what I meant."

McCoy frowned, more angry at himself now than Spock, even though Spock didn't look particularly upset. He stepped closer and touched Spock's bare arm, but when Spock looked at has hand there McCoy removed it.

"I don't believe that and you'd better not even think it. You've never liked me but you haven't tried throwing me into a lava pit. You did what you did because it was logical, because it was the most rational, least emotional, and in the end, correct thing to do. I've seen you two, I've watched you. You work better together and I think you know that. It would be illogical to sacrifice such a partnership." McCoy grinned, feeling satisfied with his own logic. "You know, I think we've been going about this all wrong, splitting you up, duty-wise, I mean. Maybe we don't need a Commander and a Science Officer, just the one."

"Sharing rank? That would be most irregular."

"Starfleet's made exceptions before in special cases, irregular entities."

Spock considered this, but shook his head minutely. "In non-ranking positions, perhaps. But where command is concerned, orders must be clear, they must not differ. It is not certain that human and Vulcan shall always agree."

"No, it's almost certainly the opposite isn't it?" McCoy frowned. "This gap you mentioned, between the two of you, just how wide is it at this point?"

Spock raised a brow. "Is that not what you are now endeavoring to determine?" 

"Perhaps, but I'm also here to see how close it is, to reassure you, to reassure the captain." McCoy tried to turn away to continue the tests, but Spock took his arm to hold him there. 

"And yourself, Doctor?" Spock said softly, standing close in the half-light, his black eyes so grave and yet dancing with something that wasn't just a reflection of the safety lights, and McCoy could feel the heat of his palm through his science blues. 

McCoy shrugged out of his grip and Spock released him. "I'm a doctor, Mr. Spock, I don't need reassuring."  
___

"Chief Medical Officer's Log, Stardate sixty-two-twenty-eight, uh, point five. Cognitive and judgement exams performed on First Officer Spock, that is, the half of him which we refer to as Mr. Spock, have been completed by myself. All results positive. Subject displays above average mental, physical, and emotional condition. Subject considered ready and able for duty.

"Supplemental Log: I can't explain why Spock passing the examination doesn't make me feel any easier about the situation, though at least it did seem to soothe Jim's concerns."

McCoy paused, sipped his brandy, and began again. "I remember that wish I made the day of the transporter malfunction, my plea to speak with Spock's human side… and now, faced with his fully Vulcan half, my concern for him grows. I can only hope that this is not from any xenophobic tendency which I had not recognized in myself, but rather a genuine concern as his doctor, even as his friend. I think that I've been wrong about him. I think that I--"

The door to his quarters chimed and he paused the recording. When he asked the computer to open the door Grayson entered. He wasn't wearing his science blues, nor was he wearing any traditional Vulcan garb, but a simple black undershirt and trousers. More strange than that, he wore a smile.

"Am I interrupting?" he asked as the door snicked closed and McCoy stood from his desk.

"Not at all. Catching up on a few things but a little distraction is always welcome." McCoy smiled as well, finding that it was true. He offered Grayson a brandy, and to his surprise, it was accepted.

"Something I can help you with?" 

They sat together on McCoy's little sofa, at a respectable distance, but McCoy couldn't recall a time that Spock had ever sat in his quarters. 

"I'm wondering, Doctor, what you must think of us?"

"Professional or personal query?"

"Both."

"Professionally, I think Starfleet's lucky to have two rather than just the one of you."

"Personally?"

"Personally, I'm permitted to have opinions which I don't share."

Grayson smiled, brown eyes full of humor in a way that was painfully familiar. He laughed, and that or the brandy flushed his cheeks pink.

"We knew that you would come to this point," he said, "of questioning and examining our nature. We were honestly surprised it took so long." 

McCoy was a little unnerved by that, but smiled and said, "Is that the royal 'we'?"

"You may joke, Doctor, but the truth is that we have had the same concerns. Knowing one's self is difficult enough when one is, well, only one. Having witnessed that terrible instance with the Captain's two selves, we were determined not to suffer the same fate."

"If this is about Spock's exam," McCoy said, and felt guilty again, "I'm afraid I have a tendency to put my foot in my mouth where he's concerned."

Grayson frowned, looking down, dark lashes against pale cheeks, and McCoy felt even worse.

"He was quite distressed You have great affect on us, Doctor."

"Well that can't be true. Spock's never worried one whit about my say in matters, not even medical ones."

Grayson looked up and looked amused. 

"We have endeavoured to share all experiences, to keep ourselves near to one another on the same path. Mostly duty details, bridge reports, science happenings, but also personal encounters and observations." He said this softly, quietly, with a voice which, if analyzed would prove identical to Spock's and yet, to the human ear, could sound so different. "So I hope that you will believe me when I say that I know myself better than you think you do."

"Yes, well, I suppose you do. I guess I have a tendency to put my foot in my mouth where _both_ of you are concerned."

Grayson inclined his head as if he agreed, a familiar motion that prompted McCoy to ask, "These experiences, you share them telepathically?" 

"Of course," Grayson said softly, and either it was the late hour or the brandy but McCoy imagined Spock and Grayson in their quarters on delta shift, sharing memories by touch in the half dark, and felt himself blush. He tried to remember all of their previous encounters. Had he said anything he shouldn't have? That he wouldn't want one or the other to hear?

"I can keep some things to myself, of course," Grayson said, guessing what McCoy was thinking and when McCoy looked up Grayson was smiling, sitting nearer than McCoy could account for, with a look in his eyes McCoy knew from recent experience, from standing on the holodeck with Spock in the dim. "But I should tell you that this will not be one of those things."

McCoy would realize later that he should not have been surprised by the kiss. All of Grayson's friendliness had been clear enough, if only it had not been delivered from such a familiar and typically impassive face, voice, and body. Had Grayson been anyone other than Spock, so to speak, McCoy would have seen the kiss coming a mile off.

As it was, though, he was surprised enough that he let it happen, surprised enough that when Grayson pressed closer, placed a hand on his thigh, the human heat of him and the familiar sweet scent of ceremonial oils, McCoy began to kiss back.

"Mr. Grayson," McCoy said when they parted, still close, so close that McCoy stood, "however much you insist I might not know about you, I can't help feeling like you…" he looked down, cleared his throat, "well, I mean the other you, wouldn't like this very much."

Grayson blinked slowly, smugly, looking up, and that looked a lot like Spock. Finally, he stood as well.

"I like you very much, Doctor," he said. "I believe that I am the part of us which has always been friendliest toward you, as well as more argumentative, in the tradition of camaraderie." He folded his hands behind his back, looking thoughtful and very Vulcan. "But I will tell you that the time I spend with you in med bay, or attempting to be closer to you as I do now, I do so as much, or perhaps even more for my Vulcan half, to carry these moments, this experience, back to him. He would not indulge in them on his own."

McCoy felt his face flush and his ears went hot. He searched for a cutting remark but had none.

"So when you say that my counterpart would not approve," Grayson added, "you are, as ever, grossly mistaken, Leonard," then turned and left as suddenly as he had arrived, leaving McCoy standing alone in his quarters.

After a few moments, McCoy moved to his desk and pressed a button and said to the computer, "Strike last supplemental log from the record."  
____

Armstrong V was a planet similar to Earth in size and atmosphere, and not very similar in any other way. Its most notable feature was its lack of features. The elevation of the planet surface varied by only a few meters one way or the other, and its temperature, from pole to pole, only by a few degrees. It was home to few indigenous forms of life, all of which could be crushed underfoot, and its wide, calm seas could, in places, be traversed without getting one's knees wet. It was remarkably unremarkable. 

The Earth colony that settled there was one of the earliest off-planet colonies, and the most tumultuous. Many of the original colonists had left Earth out of protest against Earth governments, and had carried that unrest with them for generations, unable to agree as a whole how the colony ought to be governed, whether it should or should not be part of the Federation. Currently, it was not, but a large party of colonists, led by an elected council, were pushing for reunification.

That is why the Enterprise was called there: to protect the prevailing leaders who wished to reunify and assist in talks between factions if possible, until aid could arrive.

"I have to admit I was expecting guerilla warfare, not pomp and circumstance," McCoy said, just loud enough for Jim to hear, standing next to him in one of the large grecian-style communal halls. The architecture of Armstrong V was the planet's only notable feature and, often, the only distinguishable landmarks. 

Jim nodded silently as they waited for the colony diplomats to enter, each being named and taking their places around a large banquet table. 

"Reports of their war were greatly exaggerated, I suppose?" Jim said quietly. "Spock's report listed a high casualty rate due to skirmishes between radicalized factions, riots over food shortages, but this…" he nodded his head around the table, well dressed persons in a laughing mood with their wine and their feast.

"And there was nothing in our tour," Jim continued, "to speak to those reports. I asked the chancellor but couldn't get any straight answers. Says we'll worry about that tomorrow."

"Well why the devil were we in such a hurry then?" 

Jim shook his head as the last of their party was announced and they all sat to dinner, all of it blandly synthesized as the planet would not yield many crops which humans found palatable. Vitamin deficiency had been the most common ailment McCoy had treated since their arrival some twelve hours prior. But they had a mulled wine which wasn't disagreeable, and he took another glass.

Several of the Enterprise crew had beamed down, McCoy and Jim, as well as Uhura since one of the things that still divided the colonists was language. Two security members had also beamed down, but weapons were not permitted, and they stood in the corner of the room looking awkward and uncertain.

Spock, too, had beamed down, and sat with Uhura some distance down the table, wearing a traditional Vulcan robe, rather than his dress uniform, which McCoy found peculiar. McCoy hadn't spoken to Spock since that test on the holodeck, or since Grayson had visited him in his room. He had even cancelled their last two daily exams. If either of them questioned this, he hadn't heard about it.

Jim was speaking to the chancellor, a man with an intensely dull and monotonous voice, about food supplies, but McCoy only pretended to listen, and after a while he didn't even pretend. 

"I know diplomacy has always bored you, Bones, but you were especially pre-occupied back there," Jim said later as two colony guides walked them to their rooms. "Something on your mind?"

McCoy looked over his shoulder. They were followed by the other crewmembers, including Spock, trailing somewhat behind.

Jim caught him looking. "Something to do with our first officer? You reported him fit for duty. More than, in fact."

"No, Jim. Nothing like that," McCoy said quietly, feeling guilty for making Jim worry. He smiled. "I just can't get over that silly outfit of his."

Jim laughed and shrugged. "He insisted. Who am I to argue with Vulcan custom?"

"He's never been particular about his dress before."

"He's never been fully Vulcan before," Jim said and they turned a corner. 

"Why is his other half still on the ship anyway? I made a recommendation that they work together as often as possible. Is it you or them who's ignoring doctor's orders?"

Jim shrugged. "Spock came to me with a very logical argument about his ability to be two places at once."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Of course he did."

Jim's room was first, then Uhura's, and they each said good night until their small group had dwindled to only Spock and McCoy and the guides. Spock still seemed to linger behind, floating down those marbled halls in his ornate robe, looking like royalty.When they came to Spock's room, Spock did not wish him good night, and McCoy went silently to his own.

The room was quiet and cool and beautiful, but McCoy passed by the finery to the balcony to look down on the flat, plain landscape, the little stone rowhouses, the sparsely-grassed beige plains beyond, and a sunset more brown than red or blue or any familiar color. There was a chaise there, velvet and carved gilded wood. He sat, the wine still warm in his belly and sweet on his lips, and however much he didn't want to he thought of another time he'd sat on a sofa, of another's lips and another warmth.

He was a little surprised when he found himself standing at Spock's door moments later, but as one does when one is an explorer, he chose the unknown. He knocked.

When Spock answered he was not wearing his robe, but instead he was down to his black undershirt and trousers and that reminded McCoy even more of Grayson's visit.

"Can I help you, Doctor?" Spock asked.

"House call," McCoy said, and smiled.

Spock sighed and moved aside. He crossed the room to where his robe lay draped over a plush chair. McCoy closed the door behind him.

"While I do not wish to be inhospitable," Spock said, "I must ask you to be brief." He was fiddling with the folds in the robe, removing small baubles and pins and placing them on a desk. "There are certain matters which require my attention."

McCoy watched him. He recognized the disassembled thing scattered across the glossy surface.

"Is that a phaser? You snuck in a phaser! Do you really think that's wise or even necessary?"

"Caution is always necessary," Spock said, and continued to swiftly assemble the device.

"I didn't think a Vulcan would put himself in a situation where caution was necessary, all information having previously been gathered. Caution is only required where variables remain unknown."

"Did you come to goad me, Doctor?" Spock asked, but McCoy thought he was smiling. 

"No, that's just habit," McCoy said, and smiled too, but Spock was busy with the phaser and didn't look up. Perhaps it would be easier that way. "Actually, I came to tell you a story."

"An urgent one, I presume?"

"Urgent to me," McCoy said, and Spock did look up. The phaser was complete. It wasn't pretty, some of the casing had been sacrificed for the sake of secrecy, but it looked serviceable, perfectly functioning. Of course it was. Spock had built it.

"When you first came back," McCoy began, but his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, "when the two of you came back through that transporter, I had this nagging feeling that I was somehow to blame. I made this wish, you see, while you were on the planet with Jim, a wish on a star." He laughed at himself. Spock did not. "I wanted to talk to your human side, to reason with it. I guess I thought it would make a difference. Then there you were in the flesh, human and Vulcan, plucked out of the atmosphere and empty space from the scattered atoms of one creature to form two."

"Surely you cannot believe a wish was the cause for this?"

McCoy leaned against the desk, closer to Spock. "And why not? Logic may dictate that nothing as fantastic as a wish could be to blame for anything at all, and yet we've seen stranger things happen with less explanation, haven't we? I may be a scientist, but if this mission has taught me anything it's that I don't understand everything. Most of what we see and do everyday would be considered fantasy or magic to any less advanced civilization. Teleportation, sythesization, flying ships hurtling through space faster than the speed of light. It's practically wizardry."

"Is that what they teach you in medical school?"

McCoy smiled. "That was funny, Mr. Spock. I think you're learning to be human after all."

Spock frowned, looking up. After a moment he stood. "Dr. McCoy, I should tell you--"

"No, Mr. Spock," McCoy interrupted and stood away from the desk as well, waving the comment away. "You don't have to say it, I apologize. That's really why I came." He paused and took a breath. "I've learned a few things about you and about myself during all of this. It wasn't your human half I needed to get through to, or the Vulcan. It was just you. Both parts make you who you are, and we're lucky to have both." He looked down for a moment and swallowed hard and said, "I'm lucky to have you both." 

When he looked up, Spock did not seem surprised and made no comment, and when McCoy took a step forward, Spock did not step back.

"I think I owe you something, Mr. Spock," McCoy said quietly, weighing his words, waiting for Spock to retreat. "No, that's not right. I gave it--well, your other half, he sort of took it, but he made me realize how much…" he looked up, and there was no hint of annoyance or distaste in Spock's brown eyes, "anyway, it seems only fair...well, what I mean is that I'd like to give it to you." McCoy took one last step, and leaned up and leaned forward. "I'll warn you," he said at the last, Spock's breath warm on his lips, "it might hurt a bit." 

The ground shook. The kiss wasn't the cause of it, in fact, there was no kiss. McCoy stumbled backward as Spock caught him by the arm.

"As I was saying, Dr. McCoy," Spock said, his brow a crooked, almost amused line across his face, "there really are more pressing matters to be dealt with at the moment, even if I do appreciate your efforts." He released McCoy and picked up the phaser, then stepped across the room to retrieve his communicator.

Three loud pings, like phaser blasts, sounded from down the hall.

"What the devil?" McCoy shouted.

"Spock to bridge," Spock said into the communicator.

"Bridge here," it crackled back in Grayson's voice.

"Is the Captain aboard?"

"All aboard save yourself and Dr. McCoy. The doctor seems to be away from his communicator."

McCoy felt his hip. He'd left it in his room.

"He's with me," Spock said, "and we're about to have company."

"Stand by for beam up." 

"What's going on?" McCoy asked, then, "Why is Grayson on the bridge?"

A rumble began below their feet, sounding far off, and another phaser blast pinged closer.

Spock frowned and took McCoy by the hand, pulling him off to the side of the room, away from the door. "We believed that the colonists had other motives for calling us to the planet," he said. "It seems that we were correct. As for Mr. Grayson, he is not on the bridge."

Spock's communicator clicked as if to punctuate his statement, and this time it was Jim's voice that came through. "Something is blocking the transporter beam away from the planet, I guess they caught on to us. Scotty's working on a bypass if you two can hang in there."

Another phaser blast came, loudest of all, and the door blew away from its hinges. Several colony attackers flooded in, apparently irritated to have found the other rooms empty. Spock stunned three of them before they crossed the threshold, but a fourth fired true and a blue blast of energy hit Spock in the chest, McCoy close enough to feel the electric charge of it. He caught Spock in his arms before they slid down together to the floor, and the remaining guards held phaser rifles steady on them.

"Bastards!" McCoy shouted and expected to be shot as well, but they all seemed to be waiting for something or someone else. He turned his back to them, too concerned for Spock to worry about his own skin. He maneuvered Spock to lie flat, and at the soft skin of Spock's throat he found a pulse. It was faint, erratic. He tore the black shirt away where the phaser blast had disintegrated it, and pulled out his scanner; thankfully, he hadn't left that in his room. The scanner whirred to life, it's small blue screen flashing strange readings. He looked up toward Spock's face, pale as ever, he touched the green-tinged points of his ears and his fingertips came away green. He tugged on the points and they pulled off easily in his hands, leaving soft, round, pink human ears instead. Behind him, he could hear the sudden shuffle of feet, the soft crumple of bodies.

When he turned, Spock stood there, the real Spock, and behind him, the unconscious bodies of the guards lay on the ground. Spock was looking down at his body, his human body.

"He's alive but not for long," McCoy said, letting a little anger seep into his tone. "Get us out of here, Mr. Spock."

Spock stepped over beside Grayson's body and knelt, then laid a hand on Grayson's forehead and closed his eyes. McCoy had seen a mind meld a few times by then, but this was different, quicker, easier, and after a moment, Spock removed his hand, looking very grave. He pulled out his communicator.

"Three to beam up when you are able, Mr. Scott."

"Aye," came Scotty's voice. "T'will be a moment still. I did tell you when I sent you down that I couldn't be sure to get you back. We're doing our best, sir."

Spock did not reply, only clipped his communicator back onto his belt. Finally, he stood.

"What have you done, Mr. Spock?" McCoy asked, anger at the man before him fighting with worry for the one on the floor. "You send him down here when you knew there'd be some kind of uprising? Is he that expendable to you?"

Spock knelt and lifted the body that was almost identical to his, slung one arm over his shoulder. Grayson hung limply and McCoy hurried to take his other arm. 

"It seemed logical, as I am ranking officer, that I remain on the bridge," Spock said, as they stood beneath the weight of Grayson's body, waiting for the beam-up which might not come. His voice was low, but unaffected. "At any rate, it was his idea. However, as he is also me, I accept and validate your otherwise inexplicable ire."

"Inexplicable?!" McCoy said, but before he said anything more, a shadow passed over the blown-out doorway. Another group of guards filed in and separated to reveal the chancellor. 

"Where is your captain?" he asked dully, almost bored.

"Where are your morals?" McCoy spat.

The chancellor sighed, as if he hadn't expected much more than that. "Find a cell for them," he said. "If the one is dying, let him." 

Several of the guards stepped forward at his command, a solid wall of brass plates and phaser rifles.

"What now?" McCoy asked. 

"Now, Doctor," Spock said calmly, "we return to the ship."

Spock was right. The familiar tingle of the transporter was beginning in his fingertips, his toes, at the end of his nose. 

From across the room the chancellor saw them start to sparkle and fade, and in a voice more animated than McCoy would have thought possible, he shouted, "Stop them!"

The phaser fire soared across the room in what seemed like slow motion. It wasn't. It was just that it was disintegrating even as it hit the transporter beam, even as Spock stepped forward to block it, leaving McCoy holding up Grayson's weight, and before they disincorporated entirely, McCoy felt the electric charge like a kick in the teeth. Then the transporter pad was solid beneath him, and he fell to meet it, Grayson's body still cradled in his arms.

Across the room, Jim stared, Scotty too.

Spock was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is he?" McCoy asked.

"Get him out of there, Mr. Scott!" Jim said.

"I have!" Scotty said. "There's no sign of him!"

"He can't just be gone," McCoy insisted.

"He is not."

McCoy looked down to the body that he held. The body that had spoken. Grayson's eyes were open, looking up, looking darker than before. His ears were pointed.

"I am here," Spock said. "We are both here."  
___

Their mission on Armstrong V quickly turned from assistance to policing, after the chancellor and his supporters had attempted to take the Enterprise crewmembers hostage in order to make demands of the Federation. Weapons were disabled, leaders were thrown down, and in the end, the majority of colonists just wanted to be relocated. The Enterprise would remain for another two weeks until assistance and transports arrived.

Spock and Scotty hypothesized that the increased photon charge provided by the phaser blast had been able to recreate the original transporter malfunction, reuniting Spock's two halves, and this seemed a satisfactory enough explanation that everyone had simply gotten on with business as usual.

Most everyone. 

McCoy had not seen much of Spock since he'd nearly lost the one half of him for the second time. He felt foolish and uncertain. He didn't know what Spock knew of what had occurred between himself and Grayson, or what he remembered of his time split in two. In a strange way, McCoy almost felt as if he didn't know Spock at all now. 

Work became his refuge. He found past incidents of varicella-zoster virus in several of the colonists medical reports, what the humans used to call chickenpox before it was eradicated on Earth, and initiated mandatory ship-wide inoculation, just in case. His med bay was packed every shift, and on his off shift he stumbled to bed, too tired to think.

Six days after Spock had been put back together, McCoy was in his quarters, earlier than usual, having confirmed at last that every single crew member was free of weird, old Earth viruses. He had just poured himself a brandy when his door chimed.

Spock entered. McCoy took a deep draw from his glass and sat it down on his desk. He crossed his arms.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?"

Spock look unfazed by McCoy's unwelcoming tone. 

"Am I disturbing you, Doctor?"

"In the traditional sense of the question, no."

Spock smiled. Just a little. He stepped closer.

"As you are at ease, I have come to return something to you."

"Oh?" McCoy asked, not really curious. It was probably a data tape or a PADD he had misplaced. But Spock held nothing in his hands. 

Spock stepped even closer.

"It is something which, as you said, my human half took from you. I believe you might like to have it back."

Spock took another step, and although McCoy had begun to grow suspicious of the closeness and the words, something held him there. Then Spock held him there, took him by the arms and pulled him close and kissed him, quite hard and quite long, until McCoy gasped for air and Spock still held him, his breath warm and soft and McCoy felt a little dizzy.

"Mr. Spock," McCoy said at last, and then something occurred to him. "Mr. Spock?" He said again, this time with suspicion, and stepped out of Spock's grip, though he had to reach for the table beside him to keep his balance.

"I assure you," Spock said, "I am Spock."

McCoy narrowed his eyes. "But which one? Vulcan Spock wouldn't do this… not like this." He looked sideways, as if a different angle might help him see Spock a little clearer. "It is you, isn't it? Grayson? Pretending all this time to be Vulcan? Only a human could be so deceitful!"

Spock blinked slowly, his own particular eye-roll that was unmistakably familiar. "I'm glad you think so, Doctor, but you are, as ever, mistaken." He smiled gently, smugly, and moved closer again. McCoy had gained his footing but stood his ground. Spock spoke softly.

"Like you, I too learned something about myself during my time as two entities. I understand now better than ever the nature of my duality, the abilities and sensibilities of each half, as well as their shared traits, their desires." He reached up and touched McCoy's temple, not like a meld, just to brush at the soft, greying hairs there. "I have struggled most of my life to separate them, never believing that not only was this struggle in vain, but unnecessary. As is the struggle against you, Doctor." He flattened his palm to McCoy's cheek, warm and soft and McCoy couldn't help but lean into it. "Or rather," Spock continued, "against what I feel for you, which is neither particular to my Vulcan or human half, but to the entire being that I am." 

McCoy closed his eyes, enjoying Spock's touch. When he opened them again he smiled. "Well I… I don't guess I can argue with that." 

Spock leaned forward. "Then if you do not wish to debate me, perhaps you will permit me to continue." 

"I don't know…" McCoy said, heart racing, "another kiss like that and I won't be able to stand upright." 

"I will hold you, Doctor."

"I guess you'd better kiss me, then, before I--" and Spock did.


End file.
